


SMF to LHR

by fits_in_frames



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Airports, Babies, Gen, M/M, Magician Aziraphale (Good Omens), Marriage Proposal, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: In which an angel and a demon have to wait, and a baby is very unhappy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	SMF to LHR

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend [on Tumblr](https://dreamsincolor.tumblr.com/post/642335585911128064/). Their prompt was: "Crowley/Aziraphale... maybe at an airport? Like delayed until 3am flight kind of thing." (As for the title: SMF = Sacramento International; LHR = London Heathrow.)
> 
> Unbeta'd, any and all shortcomings are my own.

"Explain to me again," Crowley says, slouched all the way down in his chair, head tipped back at an angle that could not possibly be comfortable, "why we have to wait for this flight?"

"We're trying to stay, um, under the radar, as it were. Yes?" Aziraphale says.

Crowley makes an annoyed but affirmative sound.

"Well, simply miracling ourselves from Sacramento to Soho would be...unwise. Don't you think?"

Crowley groans, and somehow slouches further. "That's how we got here, though."

A baby starts crying at the next gate. "Yes, well." Aziraphale straightens his bowtie. "I can't do it again so soon. They--" he glances upwards "--will get...suspicious."

Crowley catches himself before he actually falls out of the chair. "I told you I would do it."

"Yes but you made sure all of that wine got back to the shop, didn't you? That's got to send up some flags."

Aziraphale is right, but Crowley won't say that out loud. He groans again instead. The baby cries again, louder this time.

"There there, dearest," Aziraphale says, patronizingly patting him on the leg. "This time tomorrow, we'll be back in London."

"By the time we get back to London it will be this time next _week_ ," Crowley whines, and throws one arm over his eyes.

The baby is wailing now. An adult--presumably the child's parent--is walking around the terminal with the little one in their arms, shushing and bouncing and desperately trying to ignore all of the aggravated looks from exhausted passengers. It's even starting to get on Crowley's nerves.

"And I will _marry_ whoever shuts that kid up," he mumbles.

Aziraphale stands, somewhat abruptly. He looks back at Crowley, who lifts his head. "I'll be right back," he says, and starts walking towards parent and child.

The parent starts to apologize, but then Aziraphale pulls a coin out of thin air, holds it between two fingers, and waves it in front of the baby's bright red face. _Oh._ Crowley shakes his head and sighs, a little more affectionately than he means to. The person sitting across from him glances up from their crossword, and smiles knowingly. Crowley gulps.

After a few minutes of Aziraphale's astonishingly mediocre sleight-of-hand, the baby has quieted, and the air in the terminal has lost all of its tension. Aziraphale presses the coin into the parent's hand and the parent, looking equal parts confused and grateful, thanks Aziraphale and takes their now happily burbling child back to their gate.

Aziraphale sits back down, hands on his knees, looking extremely pleased with himself. He turns to Crowley. "We can set a date when we get home," he says, and settles back into his seat.

" _If_ we ever get home," Crowley says, and resumes his slouching, this time leaning his head on his angel's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> {Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://dreamsincolor.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fits_in_frames)!}


End file.
